Work Text:
Part 1
Jason felt…off. Twitchy. Like he'd just mainlined an obscene amount of coffee and topped it off with a bolus of Red Bull.
Now, that really wasn't such a big problem by itself. Not for a man who was used to doing things like fighting a pitched battle while slowly bleeding out, or digging civilians out of the rubble while halfway trapped in an Ethiopia flashback himself.
No, the problem was that he'd been feeling like this all. Fucking. Day.
And his ability to hide it from the nosy-ass friends he currently lived and worked with was rapidly diminishing.
But for once, it seemed like his luck would hold out just that little bit longer he needed; they were finally on the tail end of the mission, the culprits (the still-living ones) dropped off and the bounty collected and on its merry way to Grand Caiman.
Also en route to Grand Caiman was a traumatized youth the employer had coincidentally forgotten to mention.
The team had thus coincidentally charged an expense account to make sure the unnamed party would have a good life far, far away from said forgetful employer.
And now here they were again, on the rooftop of their multistory villa in the forest of San Goddamned Nowhere, stripping out of bloody and sweat-streaked armor and peeling off soaked underlayers to let their skin breathe again.
But if skin could breathe, Jason's was still fucking hyperventilating.
"Hey," Roy called softly. "How ya feelin'?"
Jason eyeballed him briefly, wondering when the man had ended up standing so damned close (he hadn't suddenly gained teleportation skills, right? It at this point was close enough to plausible, given his penchant for highly risky experiments with tech of decidedly extraterrestrial origin). "Peachy," Jason finally answered, attention turned back to unbuckling the armor plating that protected his chest. At least the holsters for his sidearms were already removed, carefully laid aside while waiting for return to proper storage. But Goddamn, he was really starting to regret making sure all his equipment was this securely attached.
He could feel his pulse climbing against his will, like if he didn't get everything off soon enough—like the next 30 fucking seconds—a perfectly acceptable alternative would be to set this shit on fire and then hope he could jump into the pool quickly enough to minimize the burn damage to his skin.
He could do it, honestly. Just a matter of timing.
Actually, he sorta had experience with that maneuver, though the circumstances had been a little different that time.
Pro tip: Avoid acid-spitting aliens. Also acid-spitting humans who've hybridized themselves with aliens. Just…avoid acid, period.
"Yeah, I can tell," Roy countered, audibly unimpressed. "You've been twitchy as hell all—"
It was the jostle against his shoulder that prompted Jason to whip around, furious almost beyond speaking that his fingers had been thrown from their quest to free him from the armor before he suffocated. "Don't fucking touch me," he hissed, baring his teeth.
Harper raised his hands in a placating gesture, and Jason didn't miss the older man shifting his weight, though it was also noticeable that he didn't move his stance just then. He knew Jason would've instinctively pegged such a move as escalation.
The fact that Roy knew him that well, and was accommodating it, just pissed Jason off more.
"Hey, that's cool. We're having one of those days, huh?"
He didn't need this to become a whole thing, an episode. He just needed out. "I don't need you to fucking psychoanalyze me every time you decide I’m blinking wrong, Harper. I'm not that fucking needy, and I'd sure as hell like it if you weren't, either."
Roy raised a brow at him. "Okay, wow. Nice."
"You are upset," Kori said from behind him, and he could hear the concerned frown in her voice, though mercifully at least she had sense enough not to crowd his damned personal space like an extra-clingy cowbird.
And still that didn't stop Jason from snapping, "Really? What fucking gave it away?"
Kori drew herself up a little more, taking a step forward. "Will you tell us what is the matter?"
Jason gave her a grin that was everything but friendly. "The matter is that—"
"You're in a pissy mood, and it's just gonna get worse if we ask questions right now. Gotcha."
Jason turned again to glare at Roy.
Arms folded, the other man just raised an eyebrow at him, You're welcome, asshole the message plainly marked on his face.
"If you would like to be alone, we will not be upset at you for it," Kori said easily, returning her attention to finger-combing some of the tangles from her long locks.
"Please," Jason said emphatically, like being rid of them was the biggest relief in the Goddamned world.
"I am to call Donna today, so I will be occupied for some time. And Roy has his inventions."
Roy made a so-so gesture. "More like food and then crash in front of the tv and watch terrible telenovelas at this point."
"Good." Jason was already stalking off at this point, finally divested of his load-out and more than ready to clear his head with some overly hot water. "Have fun."
"You're doing it wrong," Roy called after him, and Jason turned around, frowning.
"What am I doing wrong?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"Dramatic exit. Definitely needs more flair. You should watch the next show or two with me," he added, with a shit-eating grin. "You can brush up."
Jason threw his helmet at him.
"Okay, good spontaneity! You'll be a quick study!"
God, he's even worse than Dickhead.
The thought was less bitter than he wanted it to be.
One just-shy-of-scalding shower later and Jason found himself in the safety of his room.
It was clean, quiet, air conditioned, and blessedly bug free.
And whatever he was feeling, it still wasn't relief.
Hell, it didn't seem possible, but everything felt even worse now because the stuff he thought would help hadn't, and he was still burning, still buzzing underneath his skin and resisting the urge to claw away some of his flesh and see how deep he needed to dig to get the feeling to stop.
And he was still suffocating. In a thin t-shirt and a pair of joggers, he might as well have been wearing a lead-filled straitjacket over the top, compressing his chest and weighing him down and making every movement feel like trying to do water aerobics in a vat of half-dried concrete.
And worst of all, he was cold. In the middle of the sweltering fucking tropics, still feeling like he had a fever burning through his dermis, he still felt cold.
It was fucking ridiculous.
And it fucking hurt.
He stifled a sob just in time to hear soft voices speaking in the living room. Probably about him and why he was being such a damned asshole today.
Yeah, he knew he was being an asshole, but he didn't exactly see how he was going to fix that when most of his energy was going into not adding anyone else's blood to the half-dried splotches on his armor.
Shit. After probably an unreasonable amount of minutes spent peeking out balefully at the items, Jason finally forced himself to crawl out from the tangle of blankets he'd wrapped himself in and attend to the rest of the gear properly.
The weaponry he'd already taken off before his shower—that was mandatory, and going through the motions always managed to soothe him, even if just a little, no matter how out of his head he felt. The familiar weight in his hands and the curves and ridges pressing against his palm meant options, meant safety, meant he still had something to even the odds when everything went to shit (like it always, always did).
But everything else was still waiting on him, too, and he sure as hell wasn't going to blow it off in favor of what, socializing? Yeah, that'd would've just gone great.
Heya, guys! I know I've been snapping at you like a five-year-old in need of a nap, but I kinda changed my mind, so I think I'll just crash here. You're all happy to see me right now, right? This isn't embarrassing or awkward as fuck at all!
Fuck. Toothbrush & Kevlar time it was.
By the time he'd finished cleaning, inspections, and making what minor repairs he could without leaving his room and heading to the workshop, not only were his hands cramping but every other muscle seemed to be as well from how tightly he'd been holding himself. Then again, the pain honestly gave him something else to focus on, so it wasn't entirely a loss.
…Telling himself that pretty much held all the comfort of a metal folding chair. In the winter. In Gotham.
Okay, so maybe Roy was better at the whole "comforting bullshit" thing. Well, he and Roy were probably not gonna be speaking much for a while, so oh fucking well, Jason would have to learn.
With little else left to do and his mind decidedly too crumpled in its dancing to allow for reading, Jason settled for crawling back into bed, burrowing under the covers, and wishing himself to sleep.
Shockingly, trying to sleep while furious, miserable, and edging ever so slightly towards hysteria proved to be a difficult undertaking. Difficult as in futile as in something that would probably qualify as an enhanced interrogation method if he kept it going for another 30 minutes.
As it was, Jason was already biting back the urge to scream at this point, so that was probably a solid "Yes" on the enhanced-interrogation potential. Field implementation would probably be tricky, though.
Especially since he didn't know why the fuck his brain was fucking doing this in the first fucking—
This time a short, sharp rap sounded at the door in place of the soft murmur of voices.
Jason didn't answer, merely squinting at the door when even lifting his head sounded like too much work.
"Yeah, he's awake." He could all but hear Roy rolling his eyes.
The door eased open a moment later, Kori gliding her way through dressed in shorts and a cropped tank while Roy hovered behind her in a regular tank and cargo shorts.
"We have decided you have experienced enough alone time now," Kori announced, making it sound like a quietly joyous revelation.
Jason huffed, half sitting up. "What am I, on time-out?"
"Shit, I knew something about this felt familiar," Roy quipped, unceremoniously flopping onto the bed with his feet near where Jason's head had been.
Jason shoved his legs aside, prompting Roy to just move them straight into Jason's lap.
Jason threateningly moved his hand to Roy's Achilles' tendon.
Roy snorted, hands crossed behind his head. "Your kidneys, your decision, man."
Jason rolled his eyes but decided against following through on the threat. For completely unrelated reasons.
"Can you talk to us now?" Kori asked, tucking her legs underneath to curl up near Jason's side.
Not will, but can. Like she'd known. As always, so much more perceptive than people gave her credit for.
He blew out a breath, letting himself fall back against the headboard. "What's there to talk about? I'm in a shit mood, and I took it out on you guys like an idiot."
"That's 'cause you are one," Roy replied cheerfully.
Jason pressed his lips into a thin line, but didn't bother arguing.
"And this feels like way more than just a bad mood, Jaybird," he added in a quieter tone.
"Says who?" Jason huffed.
"Says someone who knows what your bad moods look like, thanks."
He couldn't exactly argue with that.
"Well I don't know how to help you if you want answers," he replied, staring up at the ceiling. "Can't fuckin' help myself right now."
"It is unfortunate that you do not have friends to whom you can turn when in need," Kori replied solemnly.
Jason started, then looked at her for a stretching moment, squinting. "Was that sarcasm?"
"Perhaps, perhaps not." Kori replied, shrugging one shoulder. "You have not asked us for help."
"Shit, and what am I supposed to say?" he asked, scrubbing a hand over his face. "That it—that it just hurts right now, and I don't know why? How is that supposed to help?" he demanded, hating the waver that filtered into his voice.
"And it just started today?" Roy inquired evenly.
"Yeah, just—I was fine yesterday, fuck."
"Day before?"
"And before that, and before that! Unless I'm having delayed fucking trauma from a nightmare half a week ago, I got nothing, Harper."
A pause. Roy propped himself up on his elbows to level a mild glare at Jason. "Come again?"
Jason rolled his eyes. "It was nothing," he muttered, turning to nuzzle into Kori where she'd let her head come to rest against his shoulder. "Wasn't even bad."
"I hope you're aware that, historically speaking, your scale for 'that bad' is like, completely fucked?"
Jason flipped him off, but Roy ignored him. "Okay, indulge me. What was this totally-not-bad dream?"
Jason shrugged with the shoulder not occupied by Kori. "Don't even remember it much, honest. Just…was back in the city."
"And by 'the city,' you mean—"
"Gotham." Jason swallowed. "Yeah."
Roy kept quiet.
"It was cold. Raining, pretty sure."
He snorted this time. "Of course. I'd be worried as hell if it wasn't, at this point."
"Preachin' to the choir, Harper."
"So keep singing."
Jason snorted back, idly picking at the sheets with one hand as he let his mind wander back down the trails of memory. He closed his eyes. "They were there."
"Which ones?" Roy asked quietly.
"Nightwing. And…Batman. He was just watching, though," he added quickly.
"And the kid?"
Jason scowled. "No idea where the rich kid was. Didn't give a shit, either. Just glad I didn't have to see him in my colors again."
"So if Batman was just watching"—and there was Roy, clearly keen on avoiding that particular rabbit hole—"that means Nightwing was doing something, right?"
Jason nodded, his throat suddenly feeling thick. He did his best to ignore it. "He was fighting. …It was Slade."
"Shit."
"Yeah. And he was winning."
"…Dick?" Roy asked. His voice sounded hopeful, but Jason could hear the wince of anxiety in it, as well.
"Wilson."
"Double shit."
Jason only nodded this time, grateful when Kori squeezed his arm comfortingly, both of hers wrapped around the one. "That must have been worrying," she commented. "Deathstroke is an exceptional fighter, although Dick Grayson is, as well."
"He was letting Deathstroke press too far, and it's like he could never make up ground enough." Jason felt his throat growing hoarser in spite of himself. "I tried to"—he licked his lips, pausing a moment—"I tried to call out to him. Let him know he was getting too close to the edge. But he couldn't hear me.
"And then I tried yelling at Br—at Batman, thought maybe I could get him to do something, but he just sat there." His lip curled in disgust as he thought back to the moment. "Wouldn't do shit, not even for his own son," he added, fist clenching tighter in the sheets for a moment before he made himself let go. "His own damn kid," he muttered once more.
"Then what happened?"
Jason scoffed. "Did he fall, you mean?"
A half-hearted shrug from Roy.
"Dunno. That's all I remember from it. I know it looked like he was gonna fall. And I wanted to stop it, but—"
"But he couldn't hear you."
"Yeah."
A few minutes more passed in silence, the only sounds in the room the soft rhythms of breathing that gradually seemed to blend together into a single song as the minutes ticked by.
"So. Doc," Jason said at long last. "You got a diagnosis, or do I need to visit the fortune-teller again?"
Roy skipped the traditional reply quip this time. "When you were in Gotham, before…Batman was your focus, right? As far as Bat stuff went," he added, before Jason could object.
"As far as that…yeah. Yeah."
"Batman, R—the new guy, too?"
"Yep," Jason replied, his voice more clipped this time. "That about does it."
"So, Nightwing…I know you fought with him some, but you really didn't talk with him much, did you?"
Jason shrugged. "Nah, not—not really, I guess. Like some when he was with Batman, but…not a lot?" He shrugged again.
"And you couldn't in the dream, either. You never talked to him, and maybe now that's getting to you because you know much could happen there."
Jason scoffed again. "I didn't need to talk to Dick. I saw how he was. Falling all over himself to be the perfect big brother. Now that he had someone he thought was actually worth his time."
"Maybe. Or maybe he just grew the fuck up and wished he could've been a better big brother to all of his little siblings. "
"Don't tell me you actually believe that shit?"
"Not saying I do. …But maybe your subconscious does."
"Yeah, well my conscious thinks he's full of shit, and anything he had to say about it would've been full of shit, too."
"That's what scares you, isn't it?"
"…What?"
Roy sighed. "You want the honest answer?"
"He should have it either way," Kori answered, before Jason could say anything himself.
"You're kinda fucked either way."
"I'm aware that's usually the case, but why this time?"
"Because either you're right and he's just an asshole playing favorites and you never had a real chance…"
"Or?"
"…or maybe there actually was a chance there. And now it's gonna be a whole hell of a lot harder after everything that went down."
Jason blew out a sigh. "Great. Fantastic."
"You get what you pay for, man," Roy answered, finally rolling forward to sit up properly.
"Hence why I don't pay you shit. The freebies are bad enough. So, what, I'm going crazy just because I don't know what he would've said?"
"Well, that and the fact that you miss him. That's true either way."
Jason spluttered.
"It's not even just that. You're worried about him. You know how Bruce treated you, so you don't trust him to treat Dick right, either."
Jason shook his head, scowling again. "Nah, that one I already know. B would never let anything happen to his precious Golden Child."
Something shadowed Roy's eyes then as he held Jason's gaze.
"What? You know something?"
It was Roy's turn to shake his head, looking down at the blankets pensively. "Not my stories to tell."
"But you know stuff. Shit, Harper, what is it? You're telling me B let him down, too?"
"I'm telling you that I've had a good father—Raymond more than Ollie—and for all the shit he knows, I don't think Bruce Wayne has ever understood how to be one."
"Then what…fuck, what do you want me to do here, Harper?" Jason threw his hands up. "You already know what happened! You're saying all this is because—because I miss a brother I maybe never really had in the first place, and I can't even go back there and see if any of it was ever real. That city…it nearly killed me last time I was there. I'm not gonna get lucky like that twice."
"It was not the city that did this, Jason."
Roy nodded, a grim look on his face. "She's right. And maybe you don't have to go back there to talk to him. I can reach out to Donna if you want, see if—"
"No! No. Shit. No, I'm not—" He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, trying to press the emotion back with it. He was starting to realize why he hadn't felt this way until today. He hadn't wanted to face the truth. "I'm still not—" He took in a shuddering breath, and felt arms wrap around him a moment later.
"You don't have to be ready yet, Jaybird." The words were murmured into his hair, the warmth of breath ghosting along his scalp.
"He didn't come for me, Roy."
He felt the arms around him tense for a moment before squeezing even tighter.
"I had to crawl across that fucking rubble while I bled out, and he never came. He…had…hours." His voice trembled as he spoke, and he knew he was fighting a losing battle. "Wh-why do I still m-miss him? Why do I still—" His words choked off into a stifled sob then.
Roy didn't ask him whether he meant Bruce or Dick then. Simply said, "Hating them was never the worst part, was it?"
Jason finally broke then.
It felt like everything that had been wound up in threads of snappish irritation and barbs of self-loathing came unraveled then like a cocoon. And all that was left was a loneliness so deep and complex that it ached down to the very core of his being.
"It isn't fair," Jason managed between shudders. " 'M not—not alone anymore. I shouldn't.…"
"Still feel lonely?" A watery chuckle from Roy as he brushed a hand through Jason's messy locks. "I wish it was that simple, sweetheart. I really do."
It wasn't cheerful, it wasn't reassuring. But it was still comforting. Just to know he was understood.
Kori spoke up again then. "I have often felt alone, even with the Titans. It caught me by surprise many times when I first came to Earth."
Jason twisted around a bit to look at her. When he'd caught his breath a little, he asked, "What helped?" He couldn't bear to ask whether anything actually had. Maybe if he could ask the right question, he'd somehow force the right answer.
And maybe it was greedy of him to want more. Sometime in the past few minutes, he'd realized that the burn had largely stopped and the hazy rage and the need to claw his way out of his skin had finally dissipated. But the ache in his chest, his heart, was still there, and he desperately wanted to believe there was something that could help.
Kori startled him by smiling suddenly, mirth dancing in her eyes. "Roy?" she asked.
"On it!"
Jason barely had time to register the words before he was tugged down onto the bed and found himself firmly sandwiched between his two friends, Roy pulling Jason into a bearhug tight against his chest while Kori snugly fit herself against his back, her whole body like a furnace against Jason's previously aching spine.
Kori reached over and across Jason to rest her hand against Roy's arm and he reciprocated, just in case Jason had any doubts about exactly how trapped he now was.
He was wedged between them like the missing pieces in a game of Jenga, Roy's hair tickling his face and Kori's mane draping over them both, and the scents of smoke and fire and shampoo and soap and metal filling his nostrils, and the textures of skin and fabric brushing against his own. Jason hated being trapped, but locked in place like this, it wasn't like being trapped. It was like being held, being guarded, being comforted.
Safe. And his chest and throat felt tight again, but he didn't feel suffocated this time. He swallowed hard and let his lungs follow the ebb and flow, rise and fall that he felt gently pressing against him.
"This is the solution?" Jason asked a few minutes into trying to shake off the drowsiness that had quickly followed on the heels of his prior exhaustion, and doing his best to convey at least a smidge of skepticism despite how muffled his words currently were.
"Yup. Tried and true Titans remedy," Roy replied, his voice irritatingly smug. "Next time, just ask. But consider this time a thank-you for that excellent calf massage."
"You must have been sampling the local flora, Harper. I did no such thing," Jason retorted.
"You spent like ninety percent of the conversation massaging my legs and feet."
Jason wanted to argue, but a quick review of the past several minutes unfortunately confirmed that the smug bastard was technically correct. "I was fidgeting!"
"In a highly utilitarian manner, thanks."
"I hate you," Jason grumbled against Roy's collarbone. "Just for the record, I'm currently plotting against you as we speak."
"You're also no longer shaking like a miniature pinscher on crack, so I'm fine with that."
"And as Roy indicated earlier, it is your prerogative if you wish to risk your kidneys."
"Okay, no way either of you can actually kick me from this position. You're just as trapped as I am."
"Who said anything about kicking?" Kori inquired innocently, delicately laying a hand just atop his ribs.
Jason stared for a long, hard moment, then blinked.
"That's right, Jaybird. Either shut up and cuddle, or prepare to face the wrath of two premiere experts in gargalesis."
"…I am fully willing to bite you, you know."
"…Still worth it."
Part 2
The Jason of Before might have thought it was a bluff. The Jason of Now knew Roy was just that kind of crazy.
He'd probably fistfight Wonder Woman over a 20-cent hair scrunchie if Jason asked.
"Thought you guys were supposed to be watching telenovelas or some shit," he tried, before he had to inflict lethal damage on the idiot.
"Yep!" Roy answered brightly. He planted a gentle kiss along Jason's hairline before springing up to grab the remote from the nightstand and aim it at the television. "Hey, never underestimate my ability to multitask, sweetheart. How do you think I got this far? I know how to torture you and catch up on my programs."
Jason rolled his eyes at the so-called threat, waiting until Roy had resettled on the bed and was propped against the cushioned headboard before scooching over to use the older man's legs as a cushion for his own head. Hey, if Roy insisted on camping out in Jason's bed, he might as well make himself useful.
Kori still hadn't left her spot at Jason's back, chin nestled firmly atop his shoulder and cheek pressing against his ear. It muffled his hearing a little, but Jason didn't mind.
Prolly not gonna stay awake for this shit anyways.
The thought redoubled as he felt gentle fingers begin to card through his hair again, the calloused fingertips he recognized as Roy's slowly drawing through Jason's unruly crown of waves. He paused here and there to sort through tangles or simply give a playful twirl to a lock of hair before gently scratching along his scalp.
Yeah, he definitely wasn't staying awake.
He should probably make an effort or some shit, though. "So what's this crap about, anyways?" he attempted, already yawning a moment later before anyone could even answer.
Roy huffed softly. "Wondered when you were gonna crash."
"Fuck off, Harper, I'm still awake."
"Also, for someone who likes to get on me for neglecting mine, your hair's tangled as hell. When's the last time you combed it?"
"Dunno. Probably before we spent a week chasing down an international theft ring trying to dabble in human smuggling, you overgrown cowbird."
"That just sounds like an excuse. Also, can't I be something like a bird of prey? Or maybe like a southern masked weaver or a baya or something else that knows how to build really cool shit."
"Answer the damn question, Harper."
A put-upon sigh from Roy. "Okay, so Las Llamas de la Pasión[The Flames of Passion] is about—"
"That's gotta be the most generic title I've ever heard."
Kori shrugged against his shoulder. "As the World Burns was probably taken, Jason."
He barked out a laugh, a little surprised to hear Kori being the one to make a reference like that. Then again, she had been on pretty great terms with Dick for a lot of years there. And God knew the bastard loved his soaps. Hell, he was probably the one who'd gotten Roy hooked on 'em.
"Well, the title fits, T.B.H.; the story basically starts when—"
Jason half sat up. "Did you just use fuckin' text speech out loud?"
Roy none too gently shoved his head right back down. "You know this explanation is gonna take way longer if you keep interrupting me," he pointed out, tone nearly as dry as the window-blinds commercial still running.
"Get used to it," Jason shot back, fully willing to draw a line. It was for Roy's own good, anyways; sometimes the dumbass made it way too easy to forget how smart he actually was. "Fucking text speech, Harper? Really?"
"It's a recap, Jaybird, not a dramatic presentation." He probably would've flicked Jason's ear had Kori not already been firmly squishing it again. As it was, he settled for jerking his leg hard enough to jostle Jason where he lay. "Focus."
"I will if you explain it in a way that ain't gonna make my ears bleed, Tween Wonder."
Before anything further could be said, a few chords of acoustic guitar played, lingering in the air before being drowned out by the brassy fanfare of a trumpet. Roy hissed in annoyance. "See? Now I'm gonna have to speed through."
"Thank fuck."
"Do not be rude, Jason. It is a very interesting storyline."
"Glad someone gets it. So, it basically all started when the Marquez family's vineyard was set on fire by an arsonist. They don't know that yet, though, but the son suspects now. Back when it first happened, the youngest daughter, Clara, got lost in the chaos and eventually wandered her way to this blind priest."
"Who returned her to her family. Please say he returned her to her family."
"Actually, he was already on his way out of town when she climbed into his cart."
Even without being able to see it, Jason could hear the smug grin brightening his voice.
"See, a church with wealthier backers had opened up and most of the people in the town started attending, and let the old place fall into further neglect than it was already in."
"Why'd they let it fall into neglect at all in the first place?"
"Exactly. That part really wasn't his fault. Hell, he already did all the work around the place himself, and he was getting pretty up there in age. So anyways, by the time he notices Clara's come along, he's already passed several towns and has no idea which she's from—plus she's too young to tell him herself."
"You're telling me a kid that young managed to just hide in his cart for like days and never give anything away? Also, how does he even know how many towns he's passed?"
"Ahh, he used to make the trip a lot back when he still had his sight, plus his burro knows the way and always stops at the different watering holes."
"…Okay, that works, I guess. Doesn't explain the kid stuff, though."
"Mm-hm. So you can imagine, he's worried that if he just asks random people who she belongs to—shit, it's starting. Finish next commercial, I.G."
Jason growled.
It took several commercial breaks, one snack break, and sitting through a brawl between two women fighting over an aging Lothario with a facial structure suspiciously similar to them both, but Roy did eventually finish recapping a story involving the blind priest, a French mercenary, a Greek talent agent, several trips to other countries, and an American tourist couple that apparently had a painfully bad approximation of a Southern accent—Roy described it as that of a "Flori-georgia-bama knock-off who's actually from New York by way of La Jolla."
Jason? He honestly had too many thoughts by the end of that to even get through them all. Not that he wouldn't try. "Of all the statistically improbable fucking bullshit—!"
"Hey, in fairness to them, you came back from the dead, so that pretty makes you the king of statistically improbable fucking bullshit," Roy cheerfully interrupted.
Jason listened to the crinkle of a water bottle as Roy took a swig.
They'd all gradually rearranged themselves over the course of four episodes in a row, Kori now curled against Jason's chest, face nestled into the crook of his neck as Roy rested with his feet kicked up against the headboard, his back propped against Kori's legs.
"And you oughta see the fan spin-offs," Roy added, absently trailing his thumb along a scar marking Jason's forearm, no effort made to free himself of the grip Jason had on his wrist. A habit left over from dark days in cold apartments. "That stuff is out-there out-there. Also insanely fucking horny. Everyone's trying to jump everyone else and like three of their relatives. Also more than occasionally their own relatives. It's just…a lot, man—and that's comin' from me."
"God, I feel like I'm losing brain cells with every additional word over here," Jason groaned.
"That is not an unusual sensation when speaking with Roy Harper."
"…Ouch? Guess Jay's not the only one in a mood today, 'cause damn."
Jason felt a rapid flicker of movement against his skin as Kori batted her eyelashes. "I merely meant," she began innocently, "that your exceptional intellectual prowess—"
"Uh-uh, nope. Silence. Not working on me today."
"The fact that it works at all is fucking sad."
"The fact that you don't know how to take wins when you can get them is what's sad. I fully admit to being desperate enough for acknowledgment that I'd probably sell a kidney for it like ninety percent of the time."
Normally that would've been Jason's cue to laugh and say some smart-aleck shit. Maybe a crack about how Roy's internal organs were too trashed by now to sell at a dollar store in a half-off sale.
But this time it just sent a bitter spike of guilt stabbing through his stomach. "Hey. Harper," he managed after a few minutes had passed and Kori had begun to doze. He did his best to swallow down the sudden dryness harshening his voice.
"Yeah, Jaybird?"
"Thanks for not letting me say that shit earlier. To Kori."
"Yeah, force of habit, I guess. Saving lives is kinda what we do here, right?"
"Right," he answered, relief already uncurling some of the knots tensed into his shoulders, as Roy seemed to take it all in stride. But he wasn't home-free yet. "And what about…you and me? We good?"
"Good?" Roy asked. His voice was soft as the rustle of a desert wind. "Nah. Fuck nah, actually."
And no less dangerous.
The queasiness coating Jason's innards congealed into something solid and heavy, dropping from high up in his stomach to the very bottom of his guts. "Roy," he began slowly.
"You wanna be?" Roy interrupted, twisting over to look at him, a quiet resignation in his eyes. "Because I think that's gonna involve having an actual conversation this time, and we both know you're more of an apology-dinner kinda guy."
And Jason was. Through and fucking through. But something about the hurt in Roy's eyes, lurking there in spite of the soft smirk that curved through the faint scarring notched at edge of his mouth, sent a spike of panic stabbing through Jason's gut. He had to fix this. Before…before what, he didn't know. He knew he didn't want to find out. "Doesn't matter," he said quickly. "I was wrong. I shouldn't have—I don't think you're—"
"That fucking needy?"
And it was then that the full, sheer stupidity of his own words struck him across the face. Because all Jason wanted—had ever wanted—was for people to care about him. Or just want him. Want him enough for him to mean something to them. Want him enough to stay.
And, this time, he maybe finally had that. And his response to the guy who'd found him chained up in that hellhole, half coherent and ready to kill anyone who'd touched him, and then had risked his life and the whole fuckin' op just to save him, who'd nursed his sorry ass back to health instead of dumping him at the nearest hospital where he could be somebody else's fucking problem—because that was all Jason ever was—
"Okay, time out." Before Jason could ask why, Roy latched on to his wrist, returning Jason's own grip. He used the hold to lever himself fully upright, but didn't let go after he had. He just propped his knee up in front of himself instead, free arm loosely wrapped around as he rested his chin atop it to peer over at Jason, weariness scrawled into his body in the jagged lines of a slumped frame. "First of all, tranquilízate[Calm yourself down / take it easy]; I can see your ass spiraling right now. And, for the record, I don't really give a fuck that you said I'm needy." The resignation in his gaze steeled into something harder, and Jason had to hold back the urge to wince. "What I'm pissed about is why."
"Roy, that's not—"
"Look, man, if I'm needy, that just explains all this"—he gestured loosely to the room at large before pausing and lifting a brow at Jason—" 'cause you definitely got a thing goin' on for needy. Which totally makes you the bigger schmuck here, by the way. By now I'm surprised you don't just go around pulling weeds from the sidewalk so you can replant 'em somewhere they won't die.
"At this point, it's probably the main thing I got going for me, so how mad can I be, right?"
And Jason hated that he couldn't tell whether Roy was joking or not, because he was wrong, there was so much more than that—but how the fuck was Jason supposed to say that now and have Roy actually believe him?
"Fuck, if that's all this was about, I coulda been over it like 15 plot twists ago, carnal2a.
And Jason felt even guiltier, because still Roy was willing to let stuff slide that he probably shouldn't have—just took for granted how much of an asshole Jason could be.
"And hey, I'm okay with you wanting space," he continued with a shrug of one shoulder. "I'm okay with you cussing me out." He lifted both brows now for emphasis. "I'm okay with you being a prickly-ass motherfucker in general."
And Jason swallowed, waiting for the punchline.
"What I'm fucking not okay with? You being cruel." There was a glimpse of canine as he spoke, the simmer of an anger still tightly leashed but already straining against its binds. "Not to us."
Jason wanted to deny it, to say that wasn't what he had meant, but his throat closed up against any protest he might try to lodge.
Roy gave him a knowing look anyways, like he'd heard the unspoken words. He narrowed his eyes, the heat in his voice calming into something more casual, that half-smiling lilt Roy would get like the easy sway of a cobra readying to strike. "I watched you work in the field, Jace. Both lives. I know what it looks like when you go for the jugular. Pretty fucking impressive if I gotta be honest. I think making Penguin cry was like a high point of your career. Oughta see if we can dig up the tape somehow," he added in a murmur, his thumb still absently running back and forth along the scars marking Jason's forearm. His expression sobered as he met Jason's eyes, anger sparking in his own. His touch stayed gentle anyways. Like always. "But this wasn't some villain. Or some other mercenary talking crap about our team. Or one of us getting hit on again and they don't take no for an answer.
"This was me. And this was you having other fucking options—easy ones—and then instead going out of your fucking way to be a bastard about it. There was zero fucking need for that. None.
"That's what pisses me off here. Every fucking part of that pisses me off.
"You could have told me to fuck off—in those exact words if you fuckin' wanted—and I woulda been cool with it. Look, we live together, work together, sleep together, eat together, chill out together, basically breathe the same fucking air like eighty percent of the time—conservatively. Who the fuck isn't gonna need a break sometimes? We don't have a problem giving you some space if you want it, Jace."
"That's not—" Jason gritted his teeth. Why the fuck was this so hard?
Roy kept quiet while Jason tried to get his fucking shit together, the elder man's expression a blank, still mask of calm as he waited.
"I didn't…that wasn't what I wanted."
Roy's answer was a slow blink. And then, in one of the driest tones Jason had ever heard from him: "I believe it was Sun Tzu who said, 'If you want people by your side, don't slip a knife between their fucking ribs, bitch.' "
I know, Jason wanted to snap. But what fucking right did he have when he'd done exactly that, like an absolute dumbass? "I didn't—Jesus fuck, I didn't know what I wanted, Harper."
"Then fucking say that," the older man snapped, impatience flaring in his tone. "The fuck do you think I'm gonna do if you admit that? Call up a fucking tabloid so we can all laugh about it? Nah, you know what—maybe I can email Lois Lane, see if she wants the exclusive. More upscale, right?"
He turned aside, the short-lived anger replaced already by a weary frustration. "Fuck, man," he said quietly, "I have to spend like half the time figuring out what I even want, 'cause basically all roads lead to fucking relapse until you figure out what it actually is you need. HALTR, right?" he added, invoking the popular acronym that stood for a classic list of trigger states for relapse: Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired. The "R" at the end—that was Roy's personal addition; being bored or Restless was one of his own biggest triggers…one that always hovered uncomfortably close with the intensity of his A.D.H.D. tendencies and the vulnerabilities left by his history of addiction.
He abruptly aimed a viciously sweet smile Jason's way. "You know what I try not to do, though?"
Jason could guess.
Roy told him anyway. "Take it out on the two fucking people I can trust to have my back out there. Because I have been down that fucking road already and I know how ugly it gets." He closed his eyes and heaved out a slow, shaky breath, fingers of his free hand fidgeting anxiously.
Stressed…scared, Jason's mind whispered helpfully. The acronym could never be enough to cover everything.
Jason cautiously squeezed Harper's wrist, the tempo drumming against Jason's fingertips as Roy's pulse continued to tick up.
Roy didn't respond beyond tightening his own grip instinctively, subtle shudders running through his body.
"Harper. Hey, Harper."
The words were what finally drew Roy's attention back.
Jason waited until he was sure he had his gaze. "Tranquilízate," he chided, dredging up a smirk he didn't feel.
A corner of Roy's mouth twitched upwards at the callback.
Kori abruptly freed herself from Jason's grasp then with all the fervor of a startled cat.
"Fucking hell—how long have you—" Jason spluttered his way through the near heart attack.
Roy was equally startled, if the expression etched onto his paler-than-usual face was anything to go by.
Kori quickly closed the distance between herself and her fellow redhead, cradling Roy's face gently but firmly in her hands. "You must be present now, Roy Harper," she murmured, gently drawing the tip of her thumbnail back and forth across the ridge of his cheek. "You are here with those who love you. You are safe."
The words sent guilt searing through Jason's chest, because was that even true now? Has it ever been? his mind hissed, and Jason knew it was his mind thinking it, not the Lazarus voices that lurked there in the background, reminding him of every sin, every drop of blood he'd spilt from cradle to first grave and onwards. No, it was his own voice, the one berating him as he watched his friend breaking down in front of him and realized he might be the thing that pushed Roy over the edge this time.
"Sorry, yeah, I'm here," Roy creaked out, leveling a shaky grin Kori's way. "Blood sugar's kinda low."
"Do not joke about these things," Kori scolded sternly.
The grin turned sheepish.
Kori stared him down as Jason cursed inwardly.
"I was under the impression you had partaken of food during my call with Donna."
"Uhhh…like a quarter of an energy bar?"
Kori frowned, clicked her tongue in annoyance. "That is hardly sufficient."
"It's okay. I can't eat right now anyways." He very deliberately avoided looking at the culprit for that as he said it, letting his gaze move past Jason instead. "It was more the memories anyways," he added quietly. "Other stuff just didn't help, I guess."
"It is not at all okay, but I am aware you will not be able to eat until you are calmer. What do you require for now?"
Something in Roy's expression cracked then, and he swallowed, hard. He slowly closed his eyes and lifted a shaky hand, moving it to overlap with Kori's. "This helps, honestly," he finally forced out, with a reluctance that normally would've been foreign to the man.
Fuck. Jason had to fix this. "Look, I can go whip something up, and Kori—"
Kori whirled on him. "You will go nowhere until this matter is resolved."
Jason recoiled slightly in shock, casting a glance at Roy, which only left him further startled as he took in a mix of not only brittle anger but also a sharp anxiety and softer notes of hurt flickering across his expression.
"You have already hurt his feelings once today. I will not have you injuring them further."
"Look, maybe we oughta put a pin—" Roy started.
Kori turned back to Roy. "We should not," she said firmly, but with less sternness than she had addressed Jason with. "Delaying will be unhealthy for you both. I am now convinced of it."
The theme song began to blare again in the uneasy silence, seeming loud and out of place despite the lowered volume. Kori scowled at the television and snatched at the remote to turn it off.
"Who needs that when we have our own, right?" Roy muttered, a tightness to both his eyes and his voice, even as he did his best to share the joke with Jason.
The panic, though, had mostly faded, and some of the guilt in Jason's chest eased just slightly enough that it gave him the chance to consider what else he could do, now that Kori had all but forbade him from leaving the room.
After looking between the two for a moment, Kori surprised him for probably the fourth time in as many minutes, springing from the bed with an easy grace that again reminded Jason of her people's pseudo-feline heritage. "I agree with your idea of preparing food for later. I will acquire some and be back presently."
A faint pang of longing hit Jason then, her phrasing reminding him of Alfred just a little.
"You okay?"
Jason turned to see Roy frowning at him, the expression worried rather than hostile. Because of course the idiot would be worrying about him when he had just had a fucking panic attack himself. Or the beginnings of one, at least.
Jason shook his head, ignoring the spike of alarm from Roy when he, too, clambered from the bed (albeit less gracefully than Kori). "Yeah. You?"
Roy laughed hoarsely, scrubbing a hand across his face. "I wanna say we probably should have slept before all this shit, but somehow I get the feeling that wouldn'ta worked out."
"Guess not," Jason answered, restlessly pacing over to the closet like he had an actual plan beyond Look busy and hope no one calls bullshit. After a moment spent riffling through the clothes, he found himself asking, "You want a hoodie or somethin'?" There—an easy decision for them both. Even though the trembles themselves had already ceased, Jason knew Roy tended to run a little cold even on his better days (leading to more than a few cheeky jokes about the perks of having "hot friends").
And it always got worse when he was anxious.
Roy mercifully played along, murmuring his thanks as Jason dug through the closet and pulled out one of his most-used hoodies, a blue one that only served to confirm Kori's earlier scolding: even taking into account its obviously being tailored to Jason's size rather than Roy's, the fit was still loose enough to be just shy of concerning, though it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been.
Still, the idiot definitely shouldn't have been skipping—or just delaying—meals.
Sure, it was easier than usual to lose track of things like that when they were in the throes of a mission, meals often taken on the run and clean water sometimes at a premium while they relied on adrenaline and a (un)healthy dose of spite as fuel. But now that they were at home—
"I believe these energy bars should be sufficient for now, though we will all need a proper meal later." Kori glided into the room with a small armful of goodies, hovering a few inches above the floor as she cast an appraising look at Roy before glancing over at Jason. She touched down then and walked over to the bed, silently depositing the stash of food with Roy before turning her attention back to Jason. "Jason," she began very calmly, "I would like to speak to you privately." She then proceeded to walk, very gracefully, over to the en-suite bathroom.
Which.…
Jason followed, still feeling Roy's eyes on his back the whole way. He waited until the door was closed to ask the obvious question. "There, uh, a reason we're doing this in here?"
"It will be easier to clean up the blood if I find myself required to kill you," Kori replied, arms folded as she took his measure.
And that? That was an answer he could respect. He snorted in spite of himself at the humor.
Kori allowed herself a soft smile as well before sobering. "He will be less anxious if he knows we are nearby."
And that was an answer he couldn't do anything but respect. He shifted on his feet. "Alright, so…what, uh—"
"Are you uncomfortable with physical contact currently?"
"…What?"
"Are you currently amenable to being touched?" she tried again. "By both males and females, or only one of these? And is skin contact acceptable?"
He finally got what she was getting at then.
He never knew what the answer to questions like those would be any given day. Much to the surprise of most people, probably, Jason actually was a tactile person by nature. It was just that life itself had beaten that out of him some—literally, at times. Cath had always been affectionate—when she was present, at least. Willis had complained about it more than once, saying Jason was just gonna be a pussy if she kept being so soft on him.
Bold and ironic words from the bitch whose idea of being a real man tended to involve finding the nearest woman or kid to beat the shit out of anytime his ego took a hit.
Roy and Kori had both heartily agreed with this assessment (hell, even Bruce had, and the fucker was pretty allergic to affection himself).
These days, Jason was fine with it, usually. Craved it, even. But it was never a sure thing, and even his triggers never settled in one place, one pattern. Most of his abusers had been male, but some of the most sadistic and vile had been female. Sometimes he craved the gentle warmth of skin against his own, and other times the mere brush of another's hand or shoulder against his made him want to throw up. Some days he couldn't do more than hold hands, and other days he buried himself in full-body hugs and cuddle piles, limbs and hair and body heat all tangling together in a free mix of affection that would make a colony of cats jealous.
Sometimes he remembered where he was, that he was with people who touched him the same way Catherine had—or even Dick, back when Jason had still been Robin, been magic, been just a kid—the raw, unembarrassed affection that was sometimes gentle and tender and other times brisk and playful but always, always safe, and kind, and innocent.
But sometimes…sometimes he was back in the dark corner of an alley, or dim light of a motel that was barely any cleaner. Or the cold chill of a polished and richly appointed dungeon with chains wrapped around his wrists and a collar cutting off his air.
None of that was the problem now. "He's not gonna want that right now, Kori. Not from me."
"That is not what I asked," Kori returned, her posture rigid and unyielding even as her voice rose and fell in gentle waves of sound. "I wish to know whether you will be disturbed by physical contact with either of us, and in what manner. I will not push you to engage in ways that would be detrimental to your health—mental or physical."
"Nah, I'm…I'm okay right now."
"Then I would like to ascertain why you consider it preferable to simply hand him a garment when you are present and he is on a bed supplied with multiple clean sheets and blankets."
And it was true; the bedclothes had all been stripped and changed before their departure for the mission, the welcome relief of fresh sheets a promise waiting for them when they finally returned to base.
Jason scowled, frustration growing. "You seriously think he wants me near him like that after everything?" He had realized by now that what he had thought was forgiveness was more likely his friends' simply biting the bullet and setting aside their mutual anger, for his sake, when they could've just left him to his own devices for the rest of the day.
Or longer.
"Have you asked him whether he wishes to be held?"
And that was just another part Jason had always struggled with; saying things out loud like that had always felt so strange to him. Formal, at the very least.
And most of the people asking questions like that out loud were just ones who wanted to fuck him and needed to know the rules, rates, or both (when they cared to check at all, that was).
And hell, one of the things Jason had always appreciated about touch was the way you could say the things that felt so hard to put into the right words. Even with his love of literature, even with the skills Alfred and his teachers and even Talia always said he had, some things were still hard to say.
He had gotten lucky with Dick and Alfred, though. Alfred was always so formal that it felt less weird when he would ask, and Dick had adapted seamlessly to using nonverbal signals instead to gauge whether Jason was in the mood for his antics or not.
Roy and Kori…Jason couldn't pin down when it had even happened, but the communication between the three of them had become the most seamless of all over time, a path that had started out with a Jason ready to kill the next person who even mentioned touching him ending with a Jason who could bask freely in the casual, wordless flow of affection through the household. Jason was rarely shy about letting people know when he didn't want to be touched—at least, when that was actually an option—and maybe that was what had made things simpler in a household populated by people with whom he both had and gave blanket permission most of the time. It had even gotten to the point where they could play around more, the affected grumpiness he often responded with a separate thing from genuine dislike and anxiety.
But sometimes, the open questions were still needed. …Times like now, apparently. Fuck my life.
The glare Kori shot him was answer enough; Jason steeled himself to leave the quiet space of the bathroom (otherwise he really would have been a massive wimp, he could admit), hoping he could just somehow whip out a quick question and prove himself…right? Wrong? He didn't know what he was even hoping for anymore.
His plans for a simple resolution were foiled when they both marched back out into the bedroom to find Roy already curled up underneath the sheets—hoodie and all—boredom, exhaustion, or both having apparently left him unwilling to wait for their verdict more vertically.
Jason paused in his tracks and Kori shot him a final, exasperated look over her shoulder before picking up speed as though nothing had happened, clambering back into bed and greeting Roy with the catlike nuzzle that was a trademark with her (a trademark that had transferred to the boys as well by now). Roy returned the gesture with a soft, easy smile, chuckling at the gentle playfulness of the gesture, and then again as she slid down into the sheets beside him and tugged him close, head nestled beneath his jaw much as she had done with Jason, and a hand lifted to rest against his hair, less carding through this time and more simply offering a comforting weight against his scalp.
He obliged easily, letting his own arms wrap carefully around her in turn. "Nice to be wanted," he said with a soft laugh.
Jason knew it wasn't meant as a jab. It felt like one anyways.
He shuffled in awkwardly behind Kori, tempted at that point to stay sitting up, but aware of the body-language dynamics of doing so. If nothing else, it would've made eye contact a pain in the ass. Which honestly felt like more of a perk right now, but he was trying to be less of an asshole this time.
Roy peered at him over the top of Kori's head, placidly waiting on Jason to make the first move.
So he did. "How long were you awake?" he asked Kori (going first didn't mean he couldn't still be a raging coward).
"I have yet to catch a single 'Z'—even a small one."
The boys both chuckled at the comment, the trademark charm of an informal word thrown into formal structure.
"Jesus, you've been awake this whole time?" The steady rise and fall of deep breaths had been enough to fool even him. "How come you didn't say anything?"
"As you know, I have been awake for many days at a time, and the necessity of stealth during our mission has resulted in less sunlight absorption than I would like. Rest is more severely required than usual. Additionally, we discussed this matter beforehand and Roy insisted that there was no need for me to challenge you in ritual combat in order to defend his meagre remaining dignity. Your behavior was unacceptable, Jason, and I had no intention of overlooking it, but he requested I allow him to deal with the matter himself, purely through conversation—or lack thereof, I suppose," she added absently.
"…I can't tell whether you're joking or not."
"Which part?" Roy chimed in dryly, ending Jason's briefly successful run of non-engagement.
"The combat," Jason answered, because he definitely wasn't taking the bait on the other part. He was still picking boot leather from his teeth as it was.
Roy actually snorted then. "Definitely serious. Probably not in the way you're thinking, I guess," he added after a moment.
Which was good news, both because Kori would've wiped the floor with him and used his hide to polish it after and because it had already been established as an official rule between them all that sparring was not an acceptable use of physical contact to handle disagreements. Sure as hell a change from the Bats, but it was one Jason could admit to seeing the sense in more and more as time went on.
But maybe it wasn't until now that he'd realized just how much he clung to the steadiness of that rule. The knowledge that anger, however severe, would never come with the price of blood, bruises, or breaks.
…On the other hand, maybe it was fucked up to say, but he still had times when he wished they could just throw a few punches his way and be done with it all.
This was one of those times. "I still can't believe you were both that pissed at me and still.…"
"Still what? Tried to help you?" Roy bristled. "Actually gave a shit?"
She didn't say anything, but Kori bumped her forehead against Roy's chin, as though reminding him she was there.
The jolt seemed to settle him, his ire dimming to a lower flame as he took to staring at Jason critically. "I forget sometimes…you never really got to see that side of the Titans, I don't think. We kinda made it a point not to fight in front of other people. Failed a lot," he admitted with a lift of his brows, "but…the team was already getting plenty of crap from people as it was. It just would've been worse if we hadn't tried at all." He drew in a slow breath, brow furrowing as his gaze turned somewhere distant.
Somewhere Jason couldn't see.
"It was bad sometimes, Jay. Really fucking bad. And the closer we all were, the uglier it got. That was the crazy part. Me and Dick? Yeah, that shit coulda stripped the paint off a car." He looked up at Jason, gaze present again, but also…hollow, almost, in an achingly familiar sort of way.
Haunted, Jason realized in the span of a moment.
Sometimes it took a revenant to recognize ghosts.
"We were pretty much joined at the hip, and…it didn't break us," he finally said, voice hoarse with the kind of raw pain that left a lump rising in Jason's own throat, "but it could have. It did with other people."
Queen, Jason thought venomously, remembering all too well the way Ollie used to speak to Roy, the kind of shit he'd bring up just to win an argument. Jade had been much the same way, the times Jason had seen them interact.
It was like Talia all over again.
But leave it to Roy to not bring up the relationships where it had been more one-sided.
"I saw how it was with Ollie, sometimes," Jason ventured.
"Yeah, maybe we don't talk about him today," he said tightly, as the grey pallor chalking his skin slipped into a faint tinge of green. "I'm not…really trying to revisit all my greatest hits in the same day."
"Just half of them," Kori commented, in a voice so neutral Jason almost questioned the irony with which the statement had definitely been made.
"Touché," Roy muttered darkly, before adding in Tamaranean, «but I thought you were going to stay out of it?»
«I thought you were going to let me stay out of it,» she answered smoothly.
The contrast of past and present stood out like slashes of red against a canvas of grey, Kori trying to protect him in a way that others Roy had allowed close would never have bothered. In fact, they'd done the opposite. And it only got worse when Roy tried to push back; if all else failed, you could always just remind him of the worst times in his fucking life, just to fucking keep him in line.
And Jason had turned around and done the same damn shit. Played that same damned role in the panoply of disastrous fucking relationships Roy had wrangled with in his life.
Poked at old wounds in hopes the bleeding would distract from his own.
"See, your ma don't get it. She thinks all that soft shit is how you raise a kid. We're in fucking Gotham, boy, and you better be mean as these fucking streets. And you're gonna show me today, or else.
"Yeah, there we go…attaboy."
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
"You are excessively aggressive. You lack discipline, control. Your volatility causes undue, unacceptable risks to both allies and the civilian population—as well as the criminals we apprehend. If I can't trust you in the field, Robin.…"
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
"This world is not a kind one, Altan2b. It abhors weakness in the same way Nature herself abhors a vacuum. But you…you have a strength that your so-called brother lacks. One your father refuses to use. But you? Have it, understand it. Wield it, as it deserves to be. Must be.
"And this is why you will not fail me. You understand that to be kind…we must first be cruel."
But that was the rub, wasn't it? Why the whole fucking thing was an exercise in futility. Roy was trying to fix—wanted him to fix—the kind of shit that couldn't be.
Jason set his jaw, gathered his thoughts. "What do you want me to say here, Harper?"
Roy glanced up at him, the languid but amused exhaustion of his conversation with Kori replaced in an instant with sharp alertness and an arched brow.
The kind of switch-up Jason was used to after so many years of working alongside vigilantes, assassins, and spies. Mercenaries, too.
But it always felt a little different coming from Kori and Roy, who tended to carry themselves with enough of an affected casualness that the shift from resting state to working was markedly and at times eerily abrupt.
"Come again?"
"I mean what the hell do you want?" And Jason could sense the bristling in Kori then just as much as he could see it in Roy.
Roy narrowed his eyes, a small, incredulous laugh escaping his lips. "Well, now I kinda wanna know where the fucking attitude came from." He waited a beat. "But I'll settle for an apology and you not pulling shit like that again. With me or Kori."
Jason met Roy's glare with one of his own, scoffing. "Oh, I'll apologize all day long, Harper. Make you a fucking card if it makes you feel better.
"That's still not gonna make me a nice fucking person. And that ain't ever what I'm gonna be. If that's what you were looking for, maybe you should've waited until Un—until Superman needed help, and you could—"
"Kori," Roy interrupted, just a little too loudly. "If I may?"
She smoothly unlatched from him and sat up, back remaining to Jason as she returned to Roy his freedom of movement.
Jason warily scrambled to a sitting position himself then, the uncertainty of the situation enough to override his concerns about appearance. Or keeping a level playing field.
But Roy simply rolled onto his back, one arm cushioning his head as he simply stared at the ceiling and sucked his teeth. Loudly. "Okay…first of all…you were literally about to call him 'Uncle Clark.' Second of all, fuck you"—and there was almost a laugh to his tone, but it was a bitter one still—"because we are not having this fucking conversation again. Not fucking today, Jason.
"Nobody in this family is looking for Clark Kent. Or Bruce Wayne. Or the kid you were before the League or whoever the fuck you think it is this time. We want you. We chose you."
"Then maybe you didn't know what you were getting. All the shit you don't like—maybe that's who I am, more than whatever the hell else you saw."
"Oh, come the fuck off it." Roy scowled over at him. "You baked us cookies with heart designs on 'em like two months ago, killer. Not even for a birthday or some shit—just 'cause you thought we might like them."
"I had some frosting left over from Mother's Day, 's all. Didn't want it to go to waste."
Roy gave him a flat look.
"The gifts you made me for Mother's Day were very thoughtful, Jason," Kori commented, twisting to peer at him from over her shoulder. "I quite enjoyed them."
"Yeah, I'm sensing a theme here, dude. Also"—and here he finally did roll to his knees, looking a little feral as he glowered at Jason through a mane of coquelicot hair—"you still suck at lying without the helmet, so please fucking spare me the half-assed lecture about what a horrible fucking person you're supposed to be."
"You knew what I was like when you met me, Roy. Both lives."
A sharp breath with the edge of a laugh then. "Mi hermano en Cristo[My brother in Christ]…I think it was a while before that second time even counted.
"Look. I fully accept that this is a household where talking shit's like an unofficial love language. Hell, I'll take you on anytime, man." He sobered then. "We're not asking you to change that, Jay. Be kinda scary if you did. What we're asking…is for you not to treat us like shit just 'cause you're in a mood. Don't fucking tell me that's too much to ask. Not for us."
Like he was checking to make sure the knife went in deep enough.
"And not when I got a daughter who's gonna remember that."
Like he knew that it hadn't.
"I'm not—I wouldn't do that in front of her, Roy."
Rather than backing him off, the promise flipped a switch that took Roy's already intense focus and honed it until it had been sharpened to something more in line with a mil-spec laser. "There we go," he said lowly.
Jason cast a glance over at Kori, who simply tilted her head in response, smiling like the cat that had caught the cream. He half wanted to offer her popcorn. Maybe then she'd tell him the name of the new show.
"Yeah, I knew that attitude outta nowhere was weird. But that? That right there? That was golden."
Jason narrowed his eyes, jaw clenching as anger slowly built inside his gut. "So you just used—"
"Before you even finish that sentence: Fuck no—I meant every damn word. But what I wanna know is why you're fightin' me on this. 'Cause right now we're having two completely different conversations and I'm a little tired for that shit today. I'm asking you not to go out of your way to be an asshole, and on your end it's like I'm asking for an impossible task like it's fuckin' John Wick.
His jaw worked briefly as he regarded Jason with a squint. "…But Li comes in the picture, that all goes away; you go from zero percent to saying you can make it an eighty-five. So what's the deal?"
Jason felt his molars grind as he calculated the angles of his escape route, wondering if this was how it had felt to be on the other side of the desk when Roy was in the C.B.I. "You said you were pissed before, about how I decided to hurt you when I didn't have to. And you saw how fucking casual I was about it, right? It was easy for me."
Roy nodded lightly, his energy now a guarded one.
Jason leaned forward. "That's what you call a default, Harper. Yeah, I can be different with Li because I know a kid shouldn't have to put up with that shit and I'm not gonna make her. That still doesn't change the kind of person I am."
Roy squinted at him for a moment, mouth slightly agape before he blinked and shook his head. "I'm sorry—are you trying to get into a philosophical debate right now about why you're being an asshole?"
"Philo—you're not hearing me on this, Harper."
"Oh no, yeah, I hear ya: you're a horrible fucking person and I should fully expect to live in fear of you taking cheap shots like that—except when you're around my kid. That about the size of it, right?"
The twisting of puzzle pieces in Roy's mind was almost a visible thing, the tension unbroken even when Kori moved from between them to go riffle through one of the bedside drawers, removing the barrier that had kept them safely apart. Roy briefly threw her a sideways glance before shifting his gaze back to Jason. "What I wanna know is why you're suddenly choosing that as the hill to die on now. Did I just…randomly piss you off somehow and this is your revenge? 'Cause right now it's like you're scared what'll happen if you cave on this. And I'm gonna be honest with you, bud—I didn't think it was that deep, and I'm the one who brought it up." He sighed, posture shifting to something more relaxed. "Tell me what I'm not seein' here." His eyes stayed sharp, but there was an openness to his face, an earnestness there that just made the whole thing worse.
"What do you think, Harper? We can just play Whac-A-Mole here every time something comes up, so you can keep pretending a little longer that I'm not a shitty person?"
The quick denial that Jason half expected—already steeled himself against—never came.
"You think I'm in denial," Roy ventured, his tone quiet. Pensive.
Jason figured his own silence was answer enough.
A low chuckle from Roy then. "Can't say I don't have a history of that." He picked at a stray thread on the bed linens. "Kinda getting whiplash, though. Earlier you asked me if we were good. Said you wanted to be. Now you're saying it doesn't matter at all." He tilted his head. "How'd you go from caring to not in the span of one conversation? Not that I can't destroy someone's entire self-image in the span of one conversation," he added laconically. "Came in handy at work. But I just wanted to set some boundaries here, man. How'd we get from that to this? Wouldn't be your whole self-sabotage thing kicking in again, would it?" he added with a lift of his brows.
Jason gave him a hard look. "What exactly do you think woulda happened if you hadn't pushed back on me, Harper?"
He hummed lightly. "I assume done the same shit again pretty soon?"
"Exactly. Hell, I wasn't even gonna apologize if I didn't have to."
"The guy raised by Bruce Wayne wasn't gonna apologize? Yeah, can't imagine the provenance of that one."
An amused snort then from Kori. Jason turned to find her currently shaping her nails with the file he and Roy had custom-made for the purpose after the frustrating run she'd had with ones designed for more Earth-bound physiology.
"You know, if your big announcement here is that you have a dysfunctional streak a mile wide and aren't used to relationships healthy enough for you to get called out on that kinda shit, I sorta figured that one out a while ago. I'm not exactly Laura Schlessinger2c over here, but I do have a background in this. And luckily for you, my payment plans are incredibly flexible; I accept cash, credit, or cuddles." He leveled a shit-eating smile Jason's way. "No gift cards, unfortunately, but I will take coupons for hugs."
Jason answered him with a frustrated growl.
Roy just blinked. "You know, I just thought the biting risk was a necessary evil, but that's actually kinda hot…in a…'possibly contract gangrene or kick off a zombie apocalypse' kinda way, but hey, we all make sacrifices."
Jason paused. "What the fuck."
"See?" Roy said, turning to call over to Kori. "Works every time."
"Your appalling sense of humor does have its advantages," Kori acknowledged evenly.
"Speaking of—this whole cautionary thing you're trying to do now? Scare us away so you won't hurt us? It takes a pretty intense level of empathy to be willing to give up something like this just because you're worried you'll keep hurting us. Most regular people don't even have that kind of empathy. If you were really the monster we're all suppose to think you are, you'd just let us bleed and enjoy the show.
"All this bullshit about the 'real you'? Nahhh, that shit ain't it. That's you listening to two decades of random fuckers who didn't know jack shit about you and wouldn't know what a good person looked like if he killed off a mob boss and spent like half a decade dealing with some of the worst shit humanity had to offer so that other people wouldn't have to."
Jason licked his lips and dealt with the one part of that he felt up to: "Maybe you oughta get one of those energy bars, Harper. Your math is off and I don't want you blowing our fucking house up."
Roy laughed. "Nah…I thought about including the whole Robin thing, but you always get kinda hung up on that. We know you're not the kid you were before, Jace. He's still a part of you, yeah, but he's not all of you. And that's the part we're looking for. The whole package, man.
"And maybe knowing that people actually love that guy and not just some memory scares the ever-loving daylights out of you, but you're just gonna have to man the fuck up and deal with it, because that's where we are right now; we're right here, Jaybird. With you. Nobody else.
"You're not the same guy you were before you died? Dude, Kori's not the same woman she was before you died. And I'm sure as fuck not the same man.
"It's called time, Jase. And like a shitload of trauma." He blinked and then added with a shrug, " …And in my case a surprise kid."
Kori's response then was a dry one: "I still fail to see how human physiology working as designed—particularly in the marked absence of proper impediment—would be a surprise."
Roy paused with a wince. "…Incredibly correct, but I could do without the reminder, sweetie. I get that enough from Jade. And Mia. And Connor. And Ja—you know what, there's basically a list by now, okay?
"Hey, speaking of lists and shit, Jaybird…all those assholes swirling around in your head right now and insulting your good name—which is strictly our job, by the way? Yeah, we're gonna have to touch base on that during the vacay; I probably have most of their names already, but I wanna make sure I have an updated list of who needs to get an arrow through the knee2d."
"Or a starbolt," Kori commented, currently inspecting her cuticles.
Roy looked at her consideringly. "Paralyze, exsanguinate, cauterize," he listed out, pointing to himself, Jason, and Kori in turn. "Sounds like we got a system."
Jason shook his head, beyond done with the whole fucking thing. "You know what, you're out of your fucking mind, Harper."
"Yeah, well, I'm on like my sixth family now, so. Generously speaking, my psyche probably passes for a fucking kintsukuroi project at this point. On the bright side, it'd probably be like a wet dream for those dime-a-dozen evil scientists we always seem to run into."
Shuddering both internally and externally, Jason grimaced. "I'll disappear you myself if you keep saying shit like that."
"Good plan, but you should really take a policy out on me first."
"Likely an impossibility," Kori chimed in. "I do not believe even Gotham companies would cover that level of pre-existing stupidity."
"You know, you'd be surprised. Some of the Rogues over there manage to keep shit pretty corporate. And I think national standards for insurance agencies would basically set insuring anything in Gotham as a massive act of stupidity, so those Gotham firms gotta be built different already."
Jason groaned. "Why the fuck are we even talking about this?"
Roy patted his chest consolingly. "It's called adulting, Jaybird. We're all agreed that one of us is eventually gonna snap and kill me, and I gotta make sure Li has a college fund."
"You are literally a fucking mil—all of us are fucking million—!"
"And yet the prices still rise every year, man. Keep up. …Then again," he hazarded with a tilt of his head, "maybe she doesn't want to go to college by then and just does the vigilante-slash-mercenary thing like all of us."
Kori slowly turned to meet Jason's eyes. "How long would it take to send inquiries to insurance agencies in Gotham?"
"Princess…hand me my fucking phone, please and you'll find out."
Roy just cackled.
Footnotes:
Part 3
After several spirited rounds of completely pointless debate, which ended with an online deep-dive of the most interesting—and absurd—claims filed with Gothamite insurance companies in the past 20 years, Kori finally escaped the financial insanity—finsanity, as dubbed by Roy—to go take a sunsoaked nap outside to recharge before dinner, while the rays were still strong in the sky.
(It was definitely going to be a hectic night at that rate.)
Roy's perpetually vampire-chic ass begged off and claimed a spot in the relative cool of the still brightly lit room, not wanting to push his luck when he was already not in the best shape for it.
Jason definitely could've swung it, but chose to stay behind as well, Kori securing both a goodbye kiss and a promise from him to make sure Roy actually ate at least one of the snacks she had brought. Lest he, for example, pass the fuck out like the true-blue idiot he was. Again.
The two had already been dozing for a few minutes when Roy broke the silence, propped up on one elbow as he lay next to Jason, who was currently inspecting the patterns of shadow and light thrown against the ceiling by the foliage outside the windows.
"Hey. One needy bastard to another? Maybe just let yourself be that sometimes. Don't be damn so scared of it."
Jason swallowed, steadfastly continuing his studies.
Roy chuckled softly. "I know, I know. It's hard."
He must have read the surprise in Jason's eyes then as the latter glanced up at him finally; he met it with a soft smirk. "What, you think this shit's just that easy for me? It was for a little while.
«A lifetime ago,»
he added in Diné Bizaad.
The raw pain sparking in Roy's eyes before he turned away nearly gutted him, and Jason found himself reaching up almost without realizing what he was doing until he felt the subtle rise and fall of scars against his skin as he cupped a hand along Roy's jaw, last two fingers pressed against his pulse point.
Roy leaned into his palm and let out a soft, shaky breath. "But you can't just brush that off, Jaybird. Pretend it doesn't matter. Isn't there." He huffed, reaching up himself now to brush his fingertips through Jason's hair.
"Only thing that ever did was fuck me up even worse.
"Shit got a little easier once I talked to Lil about it, though."
"Clay3a?"
A hum of affirmation then. "You know, for years I thought…there wasn't really a point to it." A light shrug. "I was just wired wrong, you know?" His lips pressed together in a bloodless line. "And I couldn't really blame people for leaving when nothing was ever enough for me anyway."
He laughed softly. "Ignoring, of course, the fact it was never that fuckin' bad for me back when I was on the Res. Funny the kind of stuff you can overlook when you get stuck on shit, though, right?"
Images drifted in front of his mind's eye then: Kori, face lit up in joy before she'd even unwrapped the parcels gifted to her by Jason and Roy; Roy, relief in his eyes when Jason showed up at his flank, providing enough cover fire that he could staunch the flow of blood from a jagged wound; both of them, chattering and buzzed from a sugar high after devouring Jason's latest works of culinary art. Jason nodded. "So what'd she say? Lilith."
"Okay, so, you're never gonna believe this shit, but actually…being needy can apparently be a symptom of, uh…not having your needs met."
Jason gave him a flat look, prompting a small grin from Roy.
"I know—mind-blowing, right? It gets better, though: In even more amazing news, sabotaging my health by choosing behaviors and situations that pretty much fuckin' guarantee those needs won't actually be met can severely exacerbate the problem." He lightly lifted his hand from Jason's hair in a shrug, letting it back down to drape along the back of his neck instead.
"Never woulda guessed, Harper."
"Which is why I pay her the big bucks and not you," Roy shot back easily. "On the bright side, at least that explained why I spend a good eighty percent of the time feeling like the human equivalent of a limpet—'specially once you factor in the hyperactivity shit and the addiction side of things."
"Spend," not "spent," his brain noted sharply. Fuckin' hell, Harper.…
"Lil said it's kinda like when you have a metabolic disorder," Roy continued, blissfully oblivious to Jason's sudden bout of angst. "You can take in all the food you need and then some, but if you can't process it…and if you don't know what's happening, you just end up feeling like shit, both because you're still not getting what you need in the way you need, and because you know a normal person wouldn't ever be asking for this much to begin with, so what the hell's wrong with you?"
And fuck, if that wasn't a question Jason had had to ask himself a hundred and a thousand times over—
"You know what the cherry on top is, though?" Roy continued, a note of wryness twisting his lips into something just short of an actual smile, the curve of it brushing against Jason's thumb. "When you're walking around half-starved anyways, it makes it a lot harder to tell when it's just the shit you already had going on and when it's someone else actively making it worse.
"Or both," he added with a slight jerk of his head. "That's always a fun option."
And of course that would be the exact fucking wound Jason would choose to stick the knife in. He wondered if accidental gaslighting would be a fair description or if he were kidding himself. Probably the latter. Not really an accidental stabbing just 'cause the knife went deeper than you meant. "Shit, Harper. I'm—"
"I know," Roy said quietly, closing his eyes. "You don't think I know about being afraid to love people because you already know how much it hurts if they leave? Again. Like everyone always does?
"You already know we'd kill for you, Jace. Have."
And Jason's breath caught in his chest.
"Die for you, too, if it came to that.
"But that doesn't really say it when we'd do all that for a stranger, too," Roy added, before Jason could even speak through the cold panic now flooding through his lungs and seizing his throat. He met Jason's eyes suddenly, no yield in his expression. "I wouldn't just trust a stranger with Li. The way I do with you, Kori. You don't think that scares the shit outta me? Not so much doing it, but knowing that I'm even willing to.
"And the other half of that shit is once you know how much people can hurt you, you know how much you can hurt them. I was"—he swallowed as he searched for the words, eyes turned to the bedsheets—"terrified, when I first got Li. Still am. There's so many ways I could mess this shit up. My dad…did a really good job, until he didn't, and.…" He cut off with a halfhearted shrug. He didn't mention Ollie. Didn't need to. "But what am I gonna do?" he challenged Jason with a hard look. "Just walk away from you guys because of that?"
"That ain't the same, Harper."
"Nah, it's not. Li can't really tell me to kick rocks until she's eighteen"—he tilted his head in thought—"or maybe fifteen, if I really fuck it up." He caught Jason's eye again. "You guys could tell me that tomorrow and make it stick.
"And that's the fucking price. So you try to make the best choices you can and then, whatever you have left to live with…that's what you fight for.
"And yeah, you can try never choosing at all, but that's just another way for it to suck.
"Actually, that last point is kind of moot for you anyways for one very big reason."
"Oh, yeah? What's that?" Jason challenged, lifting a brow.
Roy responded by leaning down to whisper next to his ear, unruly mane draping against his face. "You already let us in. Vampire rules, bitch," he added before snapping his teeth an inch from Jason's ear like the obnoxious fucking bastard he was.
Jason's snarling shove in response was hard enough to send the jackass sprawling onto his back and nearly off the bed entirely.
Nearly, but not quite (unfortunately).
But the space gave Jason just enough time to requisition a pillow from the bed for the purpose Nature herself intended: smothering mouthy little brats who decide to push their luck.
"You wanted to push us away like that, you shoulda done it sooner, back when maybe we'd buy the whole act." Fast to recover as usual, Roy had enough time to bring his guard up but not enough to make his way upright, and Jason made full use of his weight advantage, trapping one of Roy's legs underneath his own and leaving him effectively two limbs down as one hand stayed dedicated to fending off the pillow and retaining breathing space.
Both metaphorically and literally.
Naturally, none of this stopped Roy Fucking Harper from still running his damned mouth. "Only thing it does now is get you a couple of pissed-off roommates and the chance to have—"
His one free hand darted out sharply at Jason's ribs and Jason was barely fast enough to make a grab and halt him before he could attack the vulnerable spot.
"—the whole fuck-my-life vibe you were trying to avoid in the first place if you push it far enough. There is literally—"
Jason had to use his arm half a moment later to deflect the knee Roy sent at his ribs on the opposite side.
"—no fucking reason to do that anymore." Roy took advantage of the distraction to twist his wrist over, breaking Jason's hold on his arm. He used the moment of freedom to snag a handful of the fabric in the upper part of Jason's shirt and anchor there, leveraging his one free foot against Jason's hip in a way that forced Jason to let up with the pillow and shift his weight away before Roy could flip him off the bed entirely.
Roy used the shift to reverse the entrapment, hooking his previously trapped ankle around Jason's corresponding leg and letting go of his anchoring grip on the shirt to pincer Jason's pillow arm between Roy's subtly shifted guard and his fully free arm. "This is us not letting you."
Jason responded by leaning in to his previous shift in weight, repositioning to try and block the movements of Roy's one unsecured leg, while pressing down with the elbow of his own partly trapped arm, digging into Roy's solar plexus to further complicate breathing, and also making it harder for Roy to get the right angles for a fully locked trap.
"We try not to ruin good shit in this household, Jaybird." The bastard was still mouthing off, but definitely a little winded now; Jason could feel the vibrations through his own forearm with each word, the erratic flow of air as Roy heaved in breaths between. " 'If I hold you at night, it ain't so we can bleed in the morning.' "
"Are you seriously quoting a song at me now?" Securing the weaponized pillow with his other hand, Jason focused on fully freeing his trapped arm.
Roy refused to let up, enough of raw strength and viciously honed knowledge to maximize control with even subpar angles if that was all he had to work with. "I'm quoting a Six Feet and Counting song at you, which is categorically different!"
"You realize that just makes it worse, right?" Jason growled, shoving the pillow down harder against Roy's face and using the distraction to jam a clawed hand into a cluster of pressure points just beneath Roy's ribs.
"Too bad I don't give a shit," Roy growled back through gritted teeth, grip finally loosening at the attack on his nerves, and his pinned leg useless for fending off the attack. "I'll quote our whole catalogue if I have to."
"Not if I strangle you first."
"See, now we're good." The snarl in his voice dropped into something more smug, even with the increasingly strained breaths as Jason applied more pressure. "Can't go wrong with the classic death threat. I mean…death threats are like…half…the basis of our relationship."
He suddenly released his grip entirely as Jason yanked back again, Roy using his own hair-trigger speed and reaction time to follow the momentum and re-anchor higher up for what could morph into either another joint lock—likely fully realized this time—or a modified gi choke.
"Also! This is less strangling and more smothering? As a professional, your misuse of terminology is very disappointing!"
…Jason made sure to oblige.
It took several more minutes of fighting (plus one extra to catch their breath) before Jason got the chance to follow up. "So what's the other half?"
"Huh?" Roy tilted a sleepy look his way from where he lay perpendicular across Jason's torso, head resting back against his heart while Jason absently tapped out a tuneless rhythm against the bare skin where Roy's tank top had partially ridden up (the fucker was considerably less ticklish than Jason. Mostly annoying but occasionally convenient).
"The relationship shit," Jason pressed, shoving against Roy's shoulder. This oughta be good, he thought, ignoring the soft thrum of anxiety beneath his ribcage even as he said it.
"Oh, that. Well," the half-feral bastard began slowly, not even bothering to hide the mischief singing in his voice, "there's your rugged good looks, my charming personality, and the fact that Kori's holding on to our last remaining brain cells as collateral. Borrower, lender, servitude—that whole deal.
"Also I'm pretty sure Li now likes the two of you enough that you could kidnap her with minimal objection."
At that, Jason had to scoff. "Like she'd even notice."
"Damn, you didn't have to say it out loud."
Jason huffed out a laugh, a few frazzled strands of red dancing at the exhalation. "All right, Jane Austen."
"There's also the part where we love you so much it's kinda crazy."
He swallowed. "Please." And hoped Roy missed the rasp in his throat. "Ain't nothing 'kinda' about it, Harper."
"Hey now…that's just part of the charm."
And maybe, just maybe…it was.
AJ's Casual Commentary:
I actually wrote the initial version of this story a while back for Lulu when she was having a bad day, much as she wrote this comfort story for me, and from what I recall I wrote it on a holiday celebrating friendship, no less. I'd already wanted to do something to mark it, and then her need for comfort gave me the topic to write for.
I ended up adding some additional material (partly due to her feedback and partly of my own volition) to get this finalized version you're reading today; the original version actually ended on the "Still worth it" line. Further cuddling was Lulu's fervent wish, and then adding the extra conversation and making sure Jason apologized for being a lil prick were mine.
As much as cuddle content—especially with the Outlaws—is pretty much my own lifeblood, I tend to find it oddly difficult to include as much in my works as I'd actually wish, and I've finally worked out that a big part of it tended to be that I have it take place too late in the story, after things have already been worked out and there's little else left to be said or done; it's difficult for me to then just write cuddling without any further accompanying actions or dialogue.
So having the additional chatter with first the telenovela and then the apology and discussion afterwards ended up being what I needed here to extend the scene, and I actually do like this version of the fic even better. I find it doesn't feel forced, which was a concern I had initially at the prospect of not ending where I previously had, and the heavier parts of the conversation are honestly really gratifying.
Update prior to posting: HOLY FVCKING GODDARNED SCHITT. I wrote most of the commentary material back when the original form of the fic's narrative was just shy of 4,300 and I wasn't expecting to go that much more beyond that. Yeah, you saw that word count. And over 16,000 (16,455 according to Drafts; 15,973 according to Ao3) of that is still just the pure narrative. This motherfvcker got almost quadrupled in size, and extremely late in the game. I don't even have time enough left to most closely calculate stuff before the update, but I can say that I brought up the idea to Sapphire right at the end of July 3 to the beginning of July 4, then discussed it with her and figured out extremely early on July 4 which two fics I would work on getting release-ready. And about 10,000 of the 12,000 words of narrative I added were written during a massive work binge spanning for over 48 hours and involving having stayed up for over 24 hours straight at one point.
The writing process for this was absolutely pantsing HADES, and that was WITH Lulu getting me to finally go the fvck to sleep and rest properly, plus Sapphire providing absolutely vital contributions involving the blurb and more importantly the characterization and psychological aspects of the fic. I knew I needed more in terms of motive and direction in order to get this right, and her suggestions and clarity were absolutely bloody invaluable.
Here are her original versions of both the blurb (and it was her idea to use this for a blurb to begin with, and then to later add an ellipsis before the final verb in her version) and the cookie reference:
===
He is darkness, he is vengeance, he is out of powdered sugar :(((
===
Roy: Bruh you're kinda being a bitch rn
Jason: It's not a phase! This is the real me!
Roy: You made me cookies with hearts on them two months ago
It's like this woman knows how to casually peer into my brain and parse my thoughts literally better than I can myself sometimes. She would even end up providing like ideas or counterparts that matched up with my own before I could bloody say them.
[https://media1.tenor.com/m/4DR1IEykd7wAAAAC/bestie-yay.gif]
[https://media1.tenor.com/m/fvxwTFQxQLgAAAAC/gilmore-girls-read-your-mind.gif]
[https://media1.tenor.com/m/h78BI1XMH90AAAAC/sisters-friendship.gif]
A most wonderful and most desperately needed counterpoint to some downright eerie tech chaos and one of the most hellacious times I've had writing and editing a fic. I say this less than a month after having completed Seeing Red, the final chapter of which was twice as long as Feel-a-Nueva (Update: almost twice now that I've added Nueva's extra content…) and took me a literal year to post, and was longer than the entire rest of the fic put together. I think I had to spend more attempts doing major revising to this schitt than I did with that one first (and currently only) chapter of Exhale, and that truly is an accomplishment.
To anyone wondering, I did not use Dean Wesley Smith's cycling method for most of it, so don't blame him, ha. This was largely just raw use of the pantsing method of writing. I have some thoughts on that I'll add later here, as I continue updating this fic and doing my final edits. Okay, I'm back, but given how long the other notes have run already, I'll just be quick here: In the end, I did manage to create material I deeply love and look forward to having out there for readers and myself to keep enjoying for years onwards, God willing. That said, the process itself felt nightmarishly difficult—trying to organize and meld the disparate pieces and figure out how to properly direct the emotional and narrative flow to hit the points I wished it to. But on the other hand, I had already been making attempts to plot things out beforehand and felt super blocked in doing so, so I basically did need to just go with it and take advantage of whatever random bits of inspiration actually did pop into my head. But I do think using Dean's method probably would've worked still as a decent compromise that would've let me start shaping things in a logical manner sooner and designing the various fragments so that they all connected better rather than requiring a ton of carving and cutting and then stitching and sewing back together all after being written.
=======
I considered just leaving this part unremarked upon and seeing if readers caught it on their own, but I can't resist making a note here about this motif of how Roy fights. To some extent it was inspired by Lulu's writing of Roy in works like Why So Serious? (which was cowritten with Huntressundone) and the cameos he has in Just Breathe.
But another part was also just how I see and write the character, especially in relation to Jase.
The sum of both here is that Roy is a very crafty and formidable guy to deal with, and this applies to both physical and mental or verbal battles. And one particular angle of this is that Roy is good at fighting from positions—physical or abstract—that seem vulnerable/disadvantageous or even meek or submissive in nature.
This is also inspired some by cats—who'll go on their back as a defensive posture because it frees them to then use not just their mouths but ALSO all four sets of claws—and Mixed Martial Arts + Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, which were what I had in mind during the sparring scene.
Ultimate Guide To The Different Types Of Hooks In BJJ - Evolve University
https://evolve-university.com/blog/ultimate-guide-to-the-different-types-of-hooks-in-bjj/
If you notice, earlier I had Roy choose to just chill out on his back when he was getting fed up but saw that Jason was getting all twitchy in response to the annoyance he was picking up on.
And Roy understands how to handle Jason well; he knows that he gets a lot of anxiety with people's anger, that he's prone to fear-based aggression, and that he's used to having to push back against folks—males especially—trying to bully him. And I definitely see Jason as having an easier time in general getting along with females instead, due to his various traumas (and this is supported by his portrayals in canon).
So Roy already has some different factors fighting against him here. But he makes use of tactics meant to help keep things more de-escalated and avoid sparking Jason's more negative responses.
It's like that analogy they use in martial arts—Aikido in particular comes to mind as an example—that idea of being like water and finding a way to flow and work with and around things rather than thinking that a direct clash with brute force is automatically going to be the best or only approach. Also, the best way to win a fight is to find a way to remove the need for it at all.
So Roy actually consciously stays on his back at first when he sees Jason getting jumpy. But if you notice, some of Roy's best and most forceful and impactful verbal hits make contact during that section; taking on that relaxed position does precious little to impede his ability to fight back effectively in the verbal sense.
Additionally, I already picture several different Bats and Bat-adjacent characters as having that mode where they're being very friendly and/or casual but that's actually a warning sign and sometimes indicates a higher level of fury than you'd have to worry about if they were being openly hostile. Dick, Jason, and Roy are some of the ones I especially envision that with. And besides Lulu, another author whose work has encouraged me to lean into that myself is WakingNightmares. In particular I can point to I'm Too Tired To Think (Too Tired To Run), where we really get to see this side of Roy.
I specifically had her stuff in mind when I wrote this one passage, for example:
He narrowed his eyes, the heat in his voice calming into something more casual, that half-smiling lilt Roy would get like the easy sway of a cobra readying to strike.
And that scary-sweet/scary-calm aspect is something you'll find some in the actual comics as well.
And then for my own part, it's worth noting that I definitely write Roy with a little touch of southern/rural U.S. influence, and Roy definitely got that "Bless your heart, I will bury you with a smile" mojo as part of it. If you've watched the series Justified and are familiar with the main character there, Raylan Givens…yep, that's about how it goes. Funnily enough, Raylan's calmness and ease while yet being extremely deadly—a combo that can actually just make him all the more terrifying—also reminds me a lot of how I write one of my original characters from the pre-fanfic days—Dominic Rouhani, a military contractor (and assassin…) who's also a proud Texan (and to go one step further down the rabbit hole, one of my big inspirations for Nick has been the character Thomas Gage from Castle. Gage was absolutely golden and I really wish he could've had a larger/longer role. Bloody loved the guy). I mentioned over in Exhale how elements of my original material have ended up bleeding over into the fics, and this is another good example. So it's actually somewhat a natural/habitual/cultural thing at this point, too; for all his hyperactivity and chaos, there's also a certain steadiness/easiness Roy inhabits, which can be either more loose and carefree or more deliberately smooth and genteel. Speaking of both culture and habit, both physical and mental relaxation are also an important part of archery, so finding and existing in a certain sense of peace even in the middle of stress and tension would have been part of Roy's upbringing on the Reservation, as well—both as an archer and as a human being. And I feel like that's something he's particularly cultivated at this point in his life as he's matured plus gotten back to his roots over time, especially after having lost his way so much over the years and been through massive struggles to better cope.
Roy's also canonically former law enforcement alongside being a vigilante, and that's another source I like to try and draw from in writing him. His ability to exude an air of relaxation and even camaraderie—even while he might be furious, disgusted, appalled, or otherwise upset himself and the folks he's dealing with are openly agitated—is something that would've been important in that line of work, and I see it as something he can be very methodical about (which you probably noticed I have Jason note internally at one point).
Also, while overdoing the stiff-upper-lip thing can absolutely be very harmful and stressful, there's actually something to be said for more moderate, balanced versions of keeping a calm affect (not an error—the noun form of this word just isn't something you see a ton) when you're upset. I remember years ago I read this couple talking about how they had agreed early on in their relationship/marriage about ground rules for how they would handle the moments of conflict that would inevitably come along (and I thought it was so smart of them to think ahead like that!). And one key decision they made was that they would consciously lower their volume when they got upset, rather than upping it (their children would later joke they figured Mom and Dad must really be angry if they were whispering to each other, ha). And the fascinating thing is that while your emotions often influence your behavior, it can actually go the other way around, as well—sometimes taking physical actions that convey happiness or relaxation can actually prompt your body to start aligning with that chemically and calming down even if that's not how you were really feeling to begin with. Deep-breathing exercises and meditation are one example, but smaller/subtler techniques also can help. And the narrative you use for a situation, thing, or person—whether thought silently or openly written/spoken—can also have a similar influence. And I've found that just being methodical about that can be helpful as a way of really stepping back and checking out your own thoughts and behavior and not letting impulse rule you. Even if you still conclude, "Oh yeah, this motherfvcker needs to get cussed out," it's a lot better to be able to do that knowing that it's a considered decision rather than just a snap impulse you may later regret. Taking some extra moments to choose how you want to respond (and resting with a more chill default until you have) is a good habit to build. I say that as someone who is VERRRY hot-blooded, mind you; I try to remind myself to, as it is written, "argue with them in the best manner" (points if you recognize that quote, heh).
And I'd say Roy is not extremely mad at Jason here, but he's mad enough that he's consciously making an effort to stay more calm and relaxed in his behavior so that the tone of the argument itself doesn't end up being detrimental to the goal of actually working through this schitt and getting Jason to really hear him on this.
And then moving on to the physical sense, both Jason and Roy excel as both strikers and grapplers. They're both very fast and very strong. But Jason definitely has the edge in strength and I feel he has the advantage as a striker; his blows are devastating at a level Roy's aren't. And, like Bruce, he's far faster and more flexible than you'd expect from such a huge guy.
However, I see Roy as being the better grappler. He's not only faster than Jason but also more flexible, and he still has the raw strength to be very bloody difficult to dislodge once he grabs you.
When the two spar and they're both still on their feet, I feel like Roy's priority is to not let any of Jason's blows land, while Jason's is to make sure he forces Roy to stay at distance and doesn't allow him a chance for moves like throws, chokes, and joint locks.
And again, both men are very skilled at either side of fighting, AND both types of fighting require intelligence and calculation alongside instinct (y'all know how much I despise the portrayal of Jason as some meathead who just brawls haphazardly and is maybe good at shooting despite being brainless and undisciplined. Yeah, kindly miss me with that schitt and: Respect. His. Name); it's just that each of them has a different area that he has the greater edge in.
And I love having this both literal and more abstract concept of Roy as the slippery son of a gun who comes at Jason in unexpected ways and gets past his defenses.
To quote a comment I made on Why So Serious?, Roy is a wily Goddarned batsard and I fvcking love him for it.
And it can definitely frustrate and also unnerve/intimidate Jason sometimes, but he also respects and admires it (even if it's grudgingly so at times), and it's those skills that are in large part what have enabled their relationship to work as it has, plus there's a magnetism there with all three of them where they all really appreciate having people who actually can challenge them in various senses.
And then on the other side the fact that Roy is willing to be soft and vulnerable with Jason and is pragmatic enough not to be attached to posturing for its own sake—that's a huge part of why Jason is willing to open up a bit himself and let some of his own defences down. Roy focuses less on fending Jason off and more on drawing him in. And he could take safer, more guarded approaches but chooses to chance not doing so. Even with Roy's ability to turn things around, there's still a genuine level of trust and risk and vulnerability in how he chooses to engage Jason both physically, verbally, and emotionally, and this is not lost on either of them.
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This final song was a totally unexpected pick, but it's one I've loved for years, and my mother randomly happened to be playing it and I realized that it just worked so well as an ending song, especially with the upbeat, playful turn at the very end. And it also ties in with that topic throughout the book of realness—Jason's real feelings regarding his family members, his misconceptions regarding who he truly is as a person, and then the very real, deep love he and the other Outlaws have for each other.
Also, it's just an amazing fvcking jam and I really wanted to share it with folks—especially younger ones who might not be familiar with it already. It's honestly so impressive how much can be done with seemingly simple ingredients. Just that core music with the bass and then the piano layered on top of it. Plus those extra piano notes we get in the musical break on the longer version? All of that—it's crazy how satisfying it is to listen to just a small number of notes on repeat like that. God Almighty, people who made it knew what the fvck they were doing!!
I prefer the version that has the complete vocals, but of course the ideal would be to have both the full vocals and the musical break in the same track. I'm actually curious as to why it's split up like that.
In any case, it's definitely taken plenty of extra formatting work, but this is another example of why splitting this one-shot up into sections is worth it to me (that said, I very much intend to try and plan ahead better in the future and have stuff already chaptered if it needs to be. Getting through huge blocks of material all at once is…very much not something I'd recommend trying to do if you can avoid the need).
Cheryl Lynn - Got To Be Real (Lyric Video) | Audioandlyrics
[https://youtu.be/8_bx1O8eK2E]
Cheryl Lynn - Got To Be Real (Audio) | CherylLynnVEVO
[https://youtu.be/fI569nw0YUQ]
Can't resist including this clip, too: It came up during my search for the song; I sent it to Mom and she said it reminded her of me, ha. And it was especially funny and perfectly timed because it was also in the kitchen that my own mother had been playing the song when I decided to try and feature it here (or in another work, failing this one). I also definitely recommend reading the comments under the video; they're quite fun and charming—if also sometimes bittersweet. Sometimes you end up missing the quirks people have, eh?
Cheryl Lynn got to be real 1978 | csapunch
[https://youtu.be/dw_KEFewD4c]
Though I must note for the record that this song has already very much been a loved one for YEARS now, ha; I've had the privilege and blessing of being exposed to some truly fantastic music over the years—starting from when I was very young—and genuinely enjoyed much of it, although there has also been stuff I never quite warmed up to or that unfortunately ended up with bad memories attached, pfft.
This one, though? Nah, still just a pure gem for me. Heck, my azz also promptly began jamming to it as I handled the dishes! How could I not??!
Trigger/Content Warnings:
—Panic attacks
—References to SA/CSA
—References to the sexual-exploitation industry
—References to domestic violence
—References to verbal and emotional abuse
—Victim blaming
—Gaslighting
—References to possible self harm
—References to substance use (including underaged) & other forms of addiction
—Disordered eating
—Unhealthy relationship behaviors (Jason is shown deliberately and maliciously crossing significant verbal/emotional lines with his friends; his getting taken to task for this—rather than having it be brushed off—actually constitutes a major theme of the fic)
AJ's Casual Commentary:
The title of this fic is a multilayered pun and was inspired by the name Villanueva. The exact way I styled it went through some different iterations, but I ultimately settled on hyphenation that would both make the puns a little clearer and match up with Pup-a-Fluff, an old Linked Universe (Zelda) one-shot by my bestie (and constant collaborator), Sapphire Kaiden.
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Figures that I can't find it now that I actually need it, but I'm pretty sure the phrase "comforting bullshit" was something I saw either the author herself or the commenters (leaning towards the latter) coin on eitherDermatophobia, Autophobia, & Bats, or Why So Serious? in talking about the perfect mix of traits/methods Roy employs in dealing with Jason.
I have spent a lot of darned time reading and re-reading both the chapters and comments of those two books for the sake of the Roy content, ha.
Update: Aha!!! FOUND IT! It was LadyOctavia's comment right here.
And the bit about "crumpled dancing" comes from the Star Trek: Voyager episode "Ashes to Ashes." It was basically an inexact translation of a phrase in an alien language (Kobali).
I have no idea why, but that phrase has stuck with me for bloody YEARS. I think I just loved how it sounded so strange and random yet also felt like it worked and captured something that might otherwise be harder to express.
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To go a bit further into what I mentioned earlier, this fic takes place before If You Hold Fast, which basically contains my take on the RHATO #25 beating. Kori and Roy's perspective on Bruce radically shifts after that, and not only would they not want Jason anywhere near either Gotham or Bruce, they're also increasingly mistrustful of Dick and questioning to what extent he knows about and either sanctions or turns a blind eye to Bruce's actions. All of this is why they were both stringently opposed to Jason's eventual return to Gotham and especially his continued stay in the city once Bruce returned from apparent death, as I reference in Perfectly Imperfect.
Now, you might've clocked a remaining problem: even if this is before the beating, isn't it still after the Batarang Incident? Well…yes. Both the beating and the Batarang situation will be delved into more in other works, but the short answer is that as much as the Batarang Incident upset Kori and Roy, they were aware that Jason himself had been fighting with and attacking the Batfamily, and I have the Tower Incident where Jason attacked Tim as having taken place prior to the Batarang Incident (this is standard for my universes that include the two incidents). They still absolutely are not okay with what Bruce did, for multiple reasons, but they also understand the overall aggression during that period of time was not one-sided and they don't see the situation or Bruce himself as being completely irredeemable yet. But the nature of his later attack on Jason radically changed things and brought the dynamic to where it is by the time Tale Spin and then Perfectly Imperfect take place.
It's a complicated and deeply painful situation for all three of them to navigate relationally, and we'll continue exploring that over time.
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Regarding my song choice here, I can just quote what I said to a friend about it:
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Here's the short I was referring to (this is such a wonderful channel, by the way):
This song will always do it 😌 | msnewslady
[https://youtu.be/BDVYm-Vc-PQ]
And here's the actual featured song for this fic:
Mi Mayor Venganza - La India (Letra/Lyrics) | Kathya Rodríguez
[https://youtu.be/bKqk24c0Sfw]
And here are a couple of pages with English translations of the song. By the way, it's worth noting that "Quiero / Yo quiero" can mean both "I want" and "I love"; both interpretations make sense in this context. "I don't want him anymore" + "I don't love him anymore." And sometimes you may still have a sense of love for a person but no longer wish to have them in your life because you understand they are too much of a detrimental presence there. Jason still absolutely both loves his father and longs for his presence in his life, but the sad reality is that by the time of the most recent fic in this AU's timeline thus far—Perfectly Imperfect—Bruce no longer has any business being there.
Paola Jara - Mi mayor venganza (English translation)
https://lyricstranslate.com/en/mi-mayor-venganza-best-revenge.html
India - Mi Mayor Vengaza lyrics translation in English | Musixmatch
https://www.musixmatch.com/lyrics/India/Mi-Mayor-Vengaza/translation/english
There's a ton of stuff out there that gets the label of "empowering," and I think a large portion of it not only doesn't deserve the credit but is actually the opposite of that, if anything. But I think this song and its message deserve that label in spades, and the performance of it is just magnificent and really conveys the sense of triumph and power and freedom—and also the sass and ebullience the singer is already feeling as she says good riddance to bad baggage!